


watching terrariums

by obsessivelymoody



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody
Summary: They’re silhouetted against the gloomy grey London sky, light only touching the high points of their faces, illuminating their eyes. They look carved from marble, and by someone who is really able to capture love.Or, Dan and Phil in 2019, told through two perspectives at two different times.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 146
Collections: Phandom Fic Fests Holiday Exchange 2019





	watching terrariums

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chiridotalaevis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiridotalaevis/gifts).



> Prompt: outsider POV with canon present day Dan and Phil, preferably from someone who doesn't know them (like maybe a real estate agent or something like that?)
> 
> Big thanks to [nihilismdan](http://nihilismdan.tumblr.com/) for beta reading <3
> 
> Natasha, I hope you like this. Happy holidays!! <3

_February 15th 2019, 5:34 AM_

It's already too hot in the shop when Leanna arrives that morning. 

Ty, her manager and opening partner for the morning, is loading the pastry case. Everything is arranged in a way that no one else is able to achieve; Ty’s got some kind of magic eye when plating pastries and breakfast sandwiches. 

The air is thick with the scent of coffee, almost suffocatingly so. It’s something Leanna is growing to hate with her time here. 

Ty nods their head at her, little dreads falling into their eyes, as she marches to the back. They follow her, and she turns to them as she takes off her scarf and coat. 

“You know what they say about the early bird,” Ty says. 

“Oh fuck off,” Leanna says, watching them smile. “I practically closed last night. These shifts back to back should be illegal. I’m _exhausted_.”

They shrug. “You didn’t have to pick up that shift last night.” 

Leanna purses her lips. Ty sips their coffee, hiding a smile. 

She doesn’t know how they can drink it. Coffee gives her a headache now, and one so similar to the ones it used to starve away when she was in uni. 

(Leanna doesn’t hate her job. She just hates that it’s the job she _has_. She hates that she escaped to London from her sleepy Northern town for uni and all she’s left with is a minimum wage job and a mountain of student debt. Her parents are not impressed, and she hates that too.)

“Just help me make the shop look pretty, yeah?” Ty says, eyes following her as she grabs her apon and throws it on. 

And they do. If Leanna could work with anyone—but especially open with anyone—it would be Ty. They’re the best manager, the kindest without being a doormat, and the smartest by a fucking longshot. And they care. They care so much about others, and about this stupid job. Leanna wishes she could give that many fucks while maintaining her cool. She just wouldn’t be able to. She’s too miserable to pretend not to be.

“Wanna flick on the open sign?” Ty asks when they’re settled, and Leanna does, and unlocks the door. 

She wipes her clammy forehead as she goes to join Ty behind the counter, sighing. 

“What, broken a sweat already? It’s been like, an hour. We’ve _just_ opened.” 

She scowls. “It’s fucking boiling in here, asshole. And it’s the middle of bloody winter! At six in the morning!” 

“Complaints, complaints,” Ty tsks. 

Leanna swats them with a tea towel and the bell at the door jingles, signaling the arrival of their first customer. 

*

Three lattes, an iced coffee, and two mochas later, Leanna’s favourite customer comes in. 

Well. She shouldn’t really say _favourite_. It’s a bit more...complex than that. 

Nearly two years ago at almost exactly a year to the date of Leanna working at this bloody coffee shop, a gangly man sporting an awfully outdated black fringe came in just after opening, looking far too chipper to be ordering a green tea and cappuccino at that hour. 

Leanna hadn’t thought much of it at the time, aside from wishing she could be that kind of morning person. At least, she hadn’t thought much of it until he came back in the next day, and the day after that, _and_ the day after that, ordering the same thing each time. 

At first, she assumed they just had another regular. Which is great, considering the bloke is polite and all. Until a curly haired man about the same height as Fringe Bloke (Ty had decided to nickname him), came in and ordered the exact same thing. He even dumped extra sugar into the cappuccino the same way Fringe Bloke did. He did the same thing three days in a row, and it didn’t take Leanna long to figure out that it was definitely a pattern, and these two men were definitely getting drinks for the other. 

“You’re mental,” Ty had said. “Stop obsessing over the customers!” 

“Shut up. You say that like I make a habit out of it!”

They raised their eyebrows at her, and she aimed a swift kick at their ankle. 

“You owe me a fiver if they come in together one day. _Together_ , together.” She said, and watched them roll their eyes. 

Ty snorted. “Right, cause we’re in primary school again yeah?” 

But sure enough almost a month later they’d come in together, Dimples (nicknamed by Leanna this time) nearly letting the door slam into Fringe as they walked in. 

They’d tried new drinks—a passion fruit iced tea and caramel cold brew—and Ty listened to them quietly go back and forth about who was to pay as they took their order. (Needless to say, Ty slid Leanna a fiver on her break.) 

And they became Leanna’s favourite regulars. They were sweet and often left tips. 

Eventually, they stopped coming for months at a time, but always, always came back, and quickly fell back into their same routine. 

The last couple visits have been different, though. Their demeanors have changed, and as Dimples approaches the counter to order—dressed head to toe in running gear—Leanna can see how _exhausted_ he looks. 

An extremely nosy part of her wonders if they’ve been fighting, but they’ve still been getting their same drink orders. One of the teenagers whose name Leanna can never remember said they came in together the other day. 

She tries to shut that part of her brain down as Ty takes his order, and she gets to work on it. She takes a bit of extra care with it, being less sloppy than she normally would be. She can see him texting out of the corner of her eye, biting his lip as he waits and reads. Biting her own lip, she tops one of the drinks with whipping cream. 

“Large soy matcha latte and a large mocha!” She calls out, giving him a wide smile as he steps up to grab them. 

“Cheers mate,” Leanna says, offering him another smile as he thanks her and turns away with the drinks in hand. 

_Even his posture is different. Like something’s dragging his whole body down,_ she thinks.

She hopes whatever is weighing on him eases off soon. She believes he deserves that much. 

*

_December 11th 2019, 1:18 PM_

Ramona is running incredibly late. 

Between her car breaking down last night, taking the tube in the complete opposite direction, and her wife texting her she woke up with a bad cold this morning...things are _not_ going well. 

And now she’s three minutes late and ten minutes away from where she should be handing her clients the keys to their new place. It’s an absolute _disaster_. 

Her phone pings with another message, and she doesn't have to look at it to see it's the tenth one in the last hour in Hindi from her mother. Another impending disaster she doesn’t want to deal with because she knows it’s nothing truly important, or her mum would call her. She turns the ringer off her phone, picking her pace up to a not-so-subtle speedwalk, nearly knocking over several people in the process of rounding a corner. 

She can see her clients waiting outside the building as soon as she’s on the right street, and curses under her breath. Of course today of all days everything has to fuck itself left, right, upsidedown, and backwards. Panic starts to bubble in her stomach, and she blows out a breath, slowing her pace and smoothing hands down the front of her wool coat. 

“Mr Howell, Mr Lester,” Ramona says when she reaches them, holding her hand out. “So sorry about my tardiness! I’m really quite a punctual person, nothing seemed to be in my favour today.” 

“We don’t mind at all,” Phil says. “You’re here now, and we’re glad to see you.” 

Ramona smiles, making pleasantries before leading them into the building. They pile onto the lift, and she sells the inside of it to them, punching the button for the top floor as she does. 

She doesn’t entirely know why she’s doing that, they’ve bought the place already, so she stops herself, shifting the conversation into light small talk. 

Her wife says she’s a master at this, and it makes her even better at her job. She isn’t quick enough to take that kind of compliment, but she also isn’t about to tell her wife she’s wrong. And thankfully, Dan and Phil don’t seem to be throwing any discomfort at her. 

Eventually, they reach the top floor, and she walks them to their door, pulling the keys from her pocket. 

“I’d imagine you’d like to unlock it yourself first?” She says, holding the set out to them. 

“Sure,” Dan says, taking them from her and looking over at Phil. They exchange a look, and shuffle to the door, Dan getting ready to unlock it. 

She almost wants to laugh watching them. A coworker of hers said they seem like “great mates”, and all she could do was raise her eyebrows at him. 

Legally, nothing about them says “couple”, but everything else about them screams the word from rooftops. She finds it incredibly endearing. 

When she first started working with them, she assumed they were friends. Business partners, really, looking to make an investment. It was fascinating to slowly piece together that this is for _them_ , for their future together. 

Part of her wishes they had been more obvious about it before. She could have gotten them this place at a cheaper price, she imagines. But Ramona is all too familiar with the uncertainty, and the fear, when you’re in a queer relationship, no matter how out and loud and proud you are. 

But there’s always something so nice about finding someone like you in circumstances like this. She’s happy to help them, clients or not. They’re sweet, and she’s watched the two of them stand taller, more sure of themselves in the months they’ve worked together. 

She doesn’t know much more about them besides that they’re entertainers, run a retail business, and want a space big enough for working at home and a dog. ( _Maybe even a baby,_ Dan had said once.) They’re picky about the layouts of spaces, and even pickier about everything that makes up the space. 

And she can tell when they love and hate things. Because right now, stepping into their finished penthouse suite, she can tell that they love it. 

Their eyes are big, filled with wonder, and Phil grabs hold of Dan’s sleeve. 

“Welcome to your new home,” she says as they move further into the entryway. 

“I cannot believe this,” Dan murmurs, and Phil huffs out a breath. “It’s like, real.” 

Ramona laughs good naturedly. “Course it is! It’s yours now!”

She directs them around the flat, pausing to note the special features they requested, and sneaking glances at their awe-struck expressions. 

They eventually find themselves in the kitchen, remaining paperwork covering the counter as Dan and Phil finish it all. 

“Thank you for working so hard with us,” Dan says. “Seriously, you’ve done some kind of magic to get us this place.”

“Yes, thank you. We’re so happy to be here.” Phil chimes in, smiling. 

It’s genuine, in a very rehearsed way. Stiff, almost, but not lacking kindness. Ramona takes the hint. And she gets it. There’s not much you want to do but spend time with the person you love the most after hitting milestones with them. 

“You’re more than welcome, Mr Howell and Mr Lester,” She smiles brightly. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, and please don’t hesitate to get in contact with me through the number or email on my card if you need anything.” 

They agree, shake hands, and it’s over. She pulls out her phone, noting that she has just under an hour to get to her next appointment. She’d better hurry onto tube to avoid the disaster she had getting to this one. 

Before she turns to leave, she sees Dan twist to Phil. 

They’re silhouetted against the gloomy grey London sky, light only touching the high points of their faces, illuminating their eyes. They look carved from marble, and by someone who is really able to capture love. 

Because that’s all Ramona sees. Love, and a look in Dan’s eyes that shift to something she feels is far too personal for her to be witnessing right now. It happens in a second, but it feels like hours, and she feels her chest warm for these men sharing a look she can only liken to the way she feels about her own wife. 

Phil returns it, and she feels herself smile. There’s a small movement, and Ramona’s eyes flicker down to where their hands rest on the kitchen counter. Phil’s inching his hand towards Dan’s, and when their little fingers overlap, she turns away. 

She walks briskly out of the flat and into the hall, happy to know in her heart that she’s just passed a piece of the rest of their life to them. 

Maybe she’s just a hopeless romantic, getting soft the further she gets into middle age, but right now she doesn’t care. 

On the lift ride down, she pulls out her phone and texts her wife that she’ll be home soon with ginger tea and ingredients to make her favourite soup.

**Author's Note:**

> you can like/reblog this on [tumblr](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/post/189981610732/watching-terrariums-rating-g-word-count-22k) if you want.


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